Neon
by RogersGlory
Summary: This is a sidestory that takes place between Mimi and Roger sometimes after "Without You" in the movie/show. My very first fanfic. I don't own these characters but I wish I did. Rated M for language and drug use. Please review.


(Lyrics: Neon-John Mayer)

Time: Spring 1993

_When sky blue gets dark enough  
To see the colors of the city lights  
A trail of ruby red and diamond white  
Hits her like a sunrise_

He sat quietly on the couch picking nervously at the peeling black nail polish clinging hopelessly to his nail beds. Only dark streaks of orange, fading into pinks and purples remained in the sky as a reminder of the heat of the day. It seemed to clash so chaotically with the bright lights of the city. He looked down the hallway and saw her start to ready herself for the evening. She slowly pulled on her fishnets, trying not to rip a hole in them. He was watching her slowly change from the Mimi he knew into some sort unidentifiable stranger. He hated watching her go through this transformation in front of him. She grinned as she put the dark black mascara on her eyes. It was as if she loved what she was about to do when he knew full well it was a front. She sat playfully on the bed pulling on her long knee-high boots. These were her dancing boots, her favorite boots. He lit up a cigarette and took a few drags gazing down the hallway at her.

_Tonight she's out to lose herself  
And find a high on Peachtree Street  
From mixed drinks to techno beats it's always  
Heavy into everything_

She left the bedroom walking towards him with a sly smile on her face. She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, her scent hitting him like a wave. He could easily get lost in it and forget for just a moment what was about to happen. He wasn't stupid, he'd seen this night after night and it was getting so old. He heard her open a drawer in the kitchen and the clang of the silverware hitting the sides of the drawer. She walked by him, not allowing her eyes to meet his, carrying a spoon back to the bedroom. She was doing what she had to do to dance. She was escaping, running in her own way.

He sat silently on his hands, not sure what to do. He knew in his heart what was about to unfold and yet he was powerless. Powerless to stop what was about to be set into motion. He could see the flickering of the candle she'd just lit against the walls of the bedroom. There was no doubt in his mind what she was doing and it ached inside of him. She was preparing her escape route, the poison that would soon be coursing through her veins.  
He walked down the hallway and rested silently against the door jamb just in time to watch her plunge the needle with her shaking hand into her readily waiting arm. He waited for the tears existing in his heart to find a way to his face but came up empty. He wouldn't let her see him cry when she was like this. He whispered softly, "Mimi," catching his gaze with hers. Looks of guilt and shame were quickly replaced by ones of ecstasy and pleasure. It was already too late and he knew it. He watched the tremors of her hand stop and a smile spread quickly across her face. It was working, and she was ready. He looked into her big brown eyes for the Mimi that he fell in love with and found no sign of her. She gave him a blank stare, she was lost, gone and there was no bringing her back to him.

She stood up suddenly before him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "See ya later," she said with a blank smile. It wasn't a genuine Mimi smile that was for sure. She picked up the white poison and skillfully placed it in the top of her boot for later use. She picked up the handcuffs from the bedside table and hooked them to her belt, further evidence of the pain she would inflict upon herself this evening. He watched her stagger towards the door, feeling the full force of her high. He listened to her creep out the door, her boots hitting every step on the way down fearing that one of these days she would fall down the stairs. He heard the creaking of the door to the landing knowing that she was now outside and on her way.

_She comes and goes and comes and goes  
Like no one can  
She comes and goes and no one knows  
She's slipping through my hands_

_She's always buzzing just like  
Neon, neon  
Neon, neon  
Who knows how long, how long, how long  
She can go before she burns away_

He returned to his post, the couch, carrying his guitar behind him. This is where he would spend the evening until she got home. He struck the strings aggressively, angrily, causing pain in his already calloused fingers. It was all he could do to soothe his soul until she returned. He pictured her dancing for all of the scum bags at the club, completely stoned out of her mind and it made him sick. She was his world, his treasure, his other half that he loved with all of his heart even if the words never fell from his lips. He couldn't bear to say them; they struggled on the tip of his tongue every time he tried. He played louder trying to drown out the thoughts of his own mind.  
Would tonight be the night that she never came home? Would tonight be the night that she measured too much of the poison she was hiding in and injected it into her tiny frail body? Would tonight be the night he got the phone call he'd remember for life? Would he be staring at her lifeless body the way he stared at April's? He remembered getting those same looks from Collins and Mark when he used. It was only a matter of time before he managed to kill himself. He knew deep down she'd come home, and how she'd come home. She'd be exhausted, lifeless again. Within hours the withdrawals would set in, and the pain would be so bad he wouldn't be able to touch her. He remembered withdrawals and they were hell.

In what seemed like minutes, but was actually hours, he could hear the sound of her boots hitting the stairs on the way up. She opened the door and set her handcuffs on the end table. He looked at her in the face, she looked exhausted. He put down his guitar and welcomed her into his arms. He needed to hold her now because he knew this peace wouldn't last for long before the tremors hit.

"Hey," she said with a weak smile. He cradled her softly in his arms staring deeply into her eyes. His Mimi was present, albeit completely exhausted. Dark puffy circles falling under her eyes. She was broken, so broken, and he had no way of fixing her. He pulled her head wordlessly to his chest and rocked her back and forth softly. He took her in as much as he could, the smell of booze and cigarettes permeating the room from her night of work. She hated her job but knew she was too big to ever admit it. It seemed she needed to escape more now that he was in her life. Before dancing was a release, and now it was painful. He offered her all of the safety, love, respect that she ever needed. Dancing filled those needs before, Roger made it difficult. He became her conscience. The powder made her forget, to feel good, even just for a little while.

He looked down to find her completely passed out in his arms. He carefully carried her to the bedroom and placed her on the bed, propping her up with one hand. He carefully removed her clothing from this evening's work shaking his head. He cradled her head softly as he slid a t shirt over her tiny sleeping body, careful to not wake her. He laid her down on the bed, covering her with a sheet. He walked into the living room and got his guitar.

I_can't be her angel now  
You know it's not my place to hold her down  
And it's hard for me to take a stand  
When I would take her anyway I can_

He sat on the edge of the bed, quietly strumming his guitar. He played her a soft lullaby, more to soothe him than for her given her current condition. He didn't want to sleep and leave her alone, and yet couldn't just sit there. Beads of sweat began to appear on her soft brown skin and he knew it was starting. His heart started pounding in his ears. Given the amount Mimi used, just a few hours without the poison could plunge her into the depths of miserable withdrawal. He placed his guitar down next to the bed and watched her. He hated seeing this more than seeing her high. He knew she was in pain and there was nothing short of giving her more of the poison that put her into this position to stop it.

Quiet moans started to escape from her mouth as her body started to tremble. His heart broke in his chest and he felt completely helpless to stop her from dealing with this. He walked quickly to the bathroom to get a cool washcloth. He wiped the sweat from her hot forehead. He looked at the trails of mascara and glitter that had made their way from her eyes. It broke him down because he knew that the tears of shame and regret were the cause of those trails. Why won't she just admit she hates it and stop? He carefully wiped away the only outward sign of the night's earlier activities. The only blessing in all of this was that she was completely asleep. She was suffering but not awake to feel the pain. He was so thankful for this, knowing that at least somehow she was comfortable. He looked to the plaster ceiling and prayed that this time it wouldn't be that bad, full knowing it would be until she got her next fix.

He took her tiny hand in his, warm from fever and kissed her temple softly. He longed to hold her in his arms until this was all over, but knew doing so would only hurt her more. He loved her more than he could ever express in a song. He continued wiping the sweat from her brow, whispering encouraging words in her ear, knowing she wouldn't hear them. He got up slowly and stripped down to his boxers, gently climbing back into bed with her.  
Warm tears of pain and frustration fell down his face. Why couldn't he just fix this? Why couldn't he rescue her? He could feel the heat coming off of her feverish body from a foot away, and the shaking of the bed under the pressure of her tremors. The truth was that even in this condition he still loved her. He'd rather have her here with him like this than to not have her at all. "I love you," he whispered softly into her ear knowing deep down that she wouldn't hear it.


End file.
